


Staying Power

by bazaar



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: (fluff smut), F/F, First Time, fsmut, just a little fluff for the soul, spoilers for season 5!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24243004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazaar/pseuds/bazaar
Summary: It's easier to breathe now, what with the intergalactic threat gone and all.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 213
Kudos: 1899





	1. Chapter 1

She’s been thinking about it.

 _It_ being Catra’s face. That, and every other part of her.

She has _things to do_ , is the problem. She has places to be and towns to rebuild and meetings to attend and all she can think about is Catra. She runs into at least two unique objects a day, she’s so preoccupied. Glimmer and Bow have noticed, but Adora has a sneaking suspicion that they noticed long before she started running into furniture.

The day before, she’d been on her way to a meeting about dissolving the Horde, or rebuilding Mystacor, or topiaries in Bright Moon, or—something. She couldn’t remember what the meeting had been about, frankly. She’d been chatting with Scorpia and Perfuma when around the corner comes Catra—all lithe muscles and swaying hips and that smile she only ever gave Adora, and the next thing she’d known, she’d tripped over her own stupid feet and her face had connected with the floor. Scorpia and Perfuma had helped her up, and when she’d caught Catra’s eyes again, she’d had the audacity to _wink._ Like an _ass._ And _that_ started up another round of heart palpitations, exacerbated by the way Catra took her hand as they entered the meeting.

Ever since their last stand against Horde Prime, ever since the kiss that had set Adora’s whole world alight, she’d been feeling totally out of control. In the best way.

When Catra casually touched her arm, or when she’d tuck a stray hair behind her ear, or when she kissed her—again, and again, and _again,_ Adora felt wild. Maybe it was the magic that blanketed the whole of Etheria that was making her feel this way.

Or _maybe_ , it was that she was in love.

“If I have to sit through another one of those meetings, I think you’ll be dragging my lifeless corpse out of the hall.”

“Come _on_ , Catra,” Glimmer begins with a smirk, elbowing her on the side Adora hasn’t currently attached herself to. “They’re important. We’ve got to reestablish these trade routes.”

“ _And_ we wouldn’t _have_ to if a certain _Evil Horde_ hadn’t ripped up the roads about a year ago,” is Bow’s contribution. “You really only have yourself to blame.”

There once was a time when Catra would have leapt at the opportunity to make a hurtful remark, but instead she just rolls her eyes and angles a look at Adora, one eyebrow arched. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

Adora wouldn’t have been able to stop the grin that plasters itself across her face if she’d tried. “I think not, dear.”

Catra wrinkles her nose. “Nah, that one sounds old. And dusty.”

“You guys too?” Glimmer takes Bow’s hand as the four of them settle down for lunch. “We’re kind of between ‘honey’ and ‘darling’.”

“I thought we agreed ‘darling’ was Spinnerella and Netossa’s thing?”

“Again, they don’t have a monopoly on pet names!”

Adora is more than content to watch her friends bicker, because it means more of her attention can be on Catra idly stroking her wrist. She watches as her slender, strong thumb traces absent patterns on her skin, so absorbed in the feeling she hardly notices when Glimmer and Bow fix sandwiches for everyone, and it takes Catra using a little more force, scratching now rather than stroking, that snaps her out of it.

“You okay?” Catra asks, and she looks genuinely worried, her brow furrowed, eyes darting over Adora’s face. This side of Catra has taken some getting used to, but it also makes her warm down to her toes, and she thrills at the feeling.

Adora just smiles at her, and she’s sure it's probably the dopiest smile ever to grace her face. “Never better.”

Catra’s worry slides right away and—that’s better. There’s that look that makes her weak in the knees, the one that distracts her in meetings, that keeps her up at night, that’s one of the reasons she’s falling deeper and deeper in love with her every day. _And_ stubbing her toes on the castle's many end tables.

“Aww, you _guys_ ,” Bow coos, “I love your love!”

When Adora tears her eyes away from Catra’s (wonderful, beautiful, amazing) face, Bow is swooning at them, and Glimmer’s offering up a smirk, but Adora immediately knows that there’s a smile right underneath.

Catra groans. “Not this again.”

“Do you _expect_ us not to comment when you’re making goo-goo eyes at each other all day?” Is Glimmer’s retort.

She’s right, but it’s not going to stop Adora from staring. She doesn’t think anything could.

“It’s not like you two are any better!” Catra says, and it’s true.

Adora watches the three of them bicker—her best friends, the people she loves most in the world. Even in the midst of their heated engagement, she's never felt more at peace.

* * *

“Just breathe. Focus on the breath entering,” Perfuma inhales slowly, and then exhales, “and exiting your body.”

Catra closes her eyes, follows her lead. She feels a little stupid, but better this than sitting around in Adora’s room waiting for her to come back from yet another tepid meeting with like, the ambassador of Mystacor or whatever. Or worse, having to _go_ to said meeting. This was one Adora had been able to get her out of, finally. She’d been more than thankful, given Adora a lingering kiss as they parted ways, and found herself, inexplicably, seeking out Perfuma.

Perfuma _had_ offered this, for better or worse.

Just the thought of Adora relaxes her, and she feels the tension in her body slip away. She’s not exactly sure what the difference between daydreaming and meditation is, but those thoughts of Adora become more lucid as she breathes, and suddenly she’s in Adora’s room, on her bed. Completely naked. She almost startles back to full consciousness, but Adora’s there too, in a similar state of undress, and Catra—well, she’s awestruck. In the back of her mind she realizes that the scene isn’t actually happening— _hasn’t_ actually happened, but Catra can’t help it. She stares. Or… her subconscious stares? She’s not sure how things work here.

The not-Adora approaches her, and Catra’s not-body can’t so much as shift to give her room on the bed. She’s pinned, just by not-Adora’s eyes, by the thought of her, of what’s to come—

And then, nothing. Catra assumes her brain shorts out or something, because as soon as the not-Adora joins not-Catra on the bed, the vision dissolves, leaving Catra wanting, but mostly confused.

“What’s it like?” Her eyes snap open at the sound of her own voice. As soon as the words escape her mouth, she wants to shove them right back in. She hadn’t _meant_ to say anything, it’d just… come up.

Perfuma blinks, startled from her own meditation. “Wh—meditating? Well, it’s a lot like falling asleep only… you feel so much more aware and _attuned_ to yourself and—“

“No, not that. Uh—“ Catra balks, not quite sure of how to phrase the question she hadn’t even meant to ask. Maybe this whole idea had been a mistake. “You know what? Never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, _no!_ ” Perfuma reaches forward, grabbing Catra’s hands with the kind of intensity that once would have made her nervous. But she’s working on that. She’s _here_ , after all. “Talk to me, Catra. Every little step is part of the journey, and if you’ve had a breakthrough, I would love to hear about it!”

“I mean it’s not… not a breakthrough.”

“It could be! Sometimes little breakthroughs manifest in very strange ways. You might not know what it is until you process it!”

It feels like the frown she’s sporting is permanently stuck to her face. She knows she’s blushing now because she’s _thinking about it_ again. She’s trying to be more open, she’s trying to make friends, but isn’t this crossing a line? She doesn’t know Perfuma well yet. Is this how you make friends? Do you just _ask_ them about things like this?

Catra hasn’t made friends in a long time.

“I uh… I was thinking about Adora.” She feels herself blushing harder, which is stupid. Adora is her girlfriend, everyone knows it.

But Perfuma doesn’t judge. “Of course! Adora could be a useful conduit for some of the harder stuff you might have to work through. She makes you feel safe.”

Catra can’t help but smile. “Yeah, she does.” She blinks, frowning again. “But that’s not it… I mean…” she trails off, sighs, and meets Perfuma’s eyes again. “Have you ever been in love?”

Perfuma looks a little taken aback, but it’s followed immediately by a serene smile. “Not yet. Why do you ask?”

“I uh… I guess there are some things I haven’t—um. Some things I haven’t experienced yet too. Things that… are hard to talk about.”

It’s a horrible explanation, but Perfuma seems to understand, and it saves her the trouble of having to be more forthcoming with the feelings she’s been unearthing. Ones she hasn’t let herself feel since _puberty._

They try a couple more breathing exercises, and Catra has to admit, both to herself, and out loud: “I feel pretty good. Thanks, Perfuma.”

Perfuma’s grin is just short of blinding. “Of course, Catra! Any time you’d like, come find me.” She giggles to herself. “Probably in the gardens.”

“Or with Scorpia?” Catra teases.

The answering blush tells her all she needs to know. She’s happy to see it. So _genuinely_ happy.

Things feel like that a lot now. It’s new—Catra has never known more than a smattering of happy moments in her life. She remembers the ones she’s had; they’re bright spots in an otherwise dark history. But she remembers these bright spots on her way through the castle. At six, she’d pushed Rogelio down a flight of stairs. They’d gotten into a fist fight, turned truce, turned shaky friendship. At eight, she’d watched an unusually beautiful sunrise alone on from a high perch in the Fright Zone. At eleven, she’d won her first footrace against all of the other cadets. On what she now knows to be her fifteenth birthday she’d gotten two extra gray ration bars. At eighteen, she’d ridden a skiff through the Whispering Woods. In and in-between all of those moments: Adora, Adora, _Adora._

She remembers the easy way they’d snuggle up with each other as little kids, searching for warmth and compassion in an unforgiving hellscape. The times they’d wrestle on their own, and Catra would swear up and down to herself that she just needed the practice, and that it had to be Adora because she was her only real competition. She’d tell herself it had nothing to do with the way her body lit up when Adora pinned her to the ground. The way her muscles looked as she was growing into herself. The glimpses they _both_ caught in changing rooms and showers.

Her whole world had been wanting. _Having_ would take some getting used to.

And that, she assumed, was why that thought had burrowed its way into her meditation. Now that she had Adora, how was it that she still wanted more?

* * *

“ _Finally,_ I thought that old fuddy-duddy would never stop!”

“ _Fuddy-duddy?_ ”

Adora rolls her eyes. “It’s a word.”

“That’s not—what are you, _five_?” Catra laughs, shoving at Adora’s side and grabbing her hand in the process. “Just call him an old fuck and be done with it.”

“Catra, I’m not calling the consul of Mystacor an _old fuck._ ”

“Consul, ambassador, old fuck, what’s the difference?”

“You are _such_ a shit.”

“Oh, you’re going to call your girlfriend a shit but you won’t call some guy an old fuck? That hurts, Adora.”

For a long moment, Adora can’t find the words to respond. Her brain isn’t working. It’s that word, every time anyone refers to Catra like that, and _especially_ when Catra says it, Adora just… short-circuits.

“I was just kidding,” Catra continues, tugging on Adora’s hand so they’re eye to eye. “It doesn’t hurt. You can call me a shit.”

Adora shakes her head, laughs. “Sorry, I just…” She bites back a smile. “You’re my girlfriend.”

Catra rolls her eyes, but that doesn’t stop Adora from catching the dusting of pink across her freckled cheeks. _Wow,_ Adora thinks.

“Yes I am, doofus. Welcome to the party.”

“You’re so _pretty_.” Adora finds herself saying. Catra’s ears flatten, and her whole face goes beet-red. Adora can’t help it, doesn’t _want_ to help it. She takes Catra’s face in her hands, not caring if anyone else is wandering the halls at this hour and kisses her with all she has.

It shoots fire directly into her veins, it makes her weak in the knees, it—stops?

Catra pulls away, panting, blinking, staring at Adora. _Oh no, was that too much?_ She thinks, and is about to go on damage control when Catra speaks.

“Adora,” Catra starts, her voice hoarse. It’s about to drive Adora up the wall, she wants to hear her sound like that again. She clears her throat, continues, “You’re going to have to take me somewhere else if you want to kiss me like that.”

It’s like all the air leaves her lungs. “Catra…” she begins, and doesn’t know where it ends. Is she saying…?

Without another word, Catra grabs her hand, and they’re hauling all sorts of ass through the halls. The setting sun casts long shadows in their wake as Catra navigates her up flights of stairs, around corners, and she’s not quite sure how Catra has the castle mapped out so well, because in a matter of minutes they’re at the door to Adora’s room.

They’re panting, a little sweaty, disheveled, and Catra pulls her through the door and shuts it behind them and for a long moment they just stand there, staring at each other.

Catra bites her lip. It draws Adora’s attention to her lips. She doesn’t think they’re such a bad thing to be paying attention to.

“Sorry for running— _dragging_ you along. I just… I needed to…” Catra frowns at herself.

With a start, Adora realizes that there’s a least a few feet of distance between them. She steps into Catra’s space, and can’t help but notice the hitch in her breath. “You don’t have to apologize,” she says, soft, gentle, and brings her hand to cup Catra’s jaw.

Catra leans into her hand, smiles at her, and Adora is certain her heart is going to explode out of her chest at any moment. _That_ might ruin the mood a little.

“I’m still getting used to how and when to apologize.”

Adora grins at her, toothy and bright. “You’re doing so _great_ , my love.”

It only takes a moment, Catra’s eyes well up with tears, and it gives Adora a minor heart attack, but she’s still smiling. “I like that one.”

“My love?”

Catra nods, and she’s leaning up to kiss Adora and unlike the kiss in the hall, this one is slow and deliberate and a little wet and salty from Catra’s tears (or maybe Adora’s? She’s sure she’s crying now.) Catra’s arms wind around her back and the extra support is welcome because Adora is no longer skin and muscle and bones, she’s jelly. That is the only explanation for the way she’s trembling (or maybe that’s Catra? They’re both shaking.)

When they break apart, Catra stays close enough to nudge Adora’s nose with her own. “You’re shaking,” she says, because of _course_ she does. It’s not malicious, not even a challenge—Adora can hear the gentle smile in her voice. Just an observation.

“So are you.”

Catra nods against her. “Did you ever think we’d be here?”

“Here as in? In my room in Bright Moon, or as in kissing?”

Catra huffs a laugh. “Both, I guess.”

“Well I mean, I’d always _hoped_ I’d get to kiss you.” The statement earns her a full-fledged grin, and Catra presses a quick, happy kiss to her lips. She takes a moment to compose herself for the second part of her answer, after that. “And I think this was always destined, you know? Us on the same team, battling evil. It just seems _right._ It fits.”

The happy hum, coupled with a smile that all but knocks her out gives Adora all of the incentive she needs to lean back in.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s _surreal._

There’s really no other word to describe how kissing Adora feels, and Catra’s not even certain that words will do it justice. She wants to articulate it, to tell Adora how good it feels to be together, to be like this after what feels like an eternity of longing. Sometimes, though, when she looks into Adora’s eyes, she knows that the other woman understands.

The unspoken relief of certainty, the newness of vulnerability, and the gentle weight of being loved washes over Catra as she presses herself closer, lets Adora press her closer.

When they part again, breathing shaky, still trembling, Catra knows that she has to ask. There is a cord in her, drawn so tight she feels like even the act of asking would snap it. But she has to ask for what she wants, has to ask permission, because there are two halves to a whole.

“Adora…”

“Hm?” She leans back an inch to meet Catra’s eyes.

“I um… know this might be a little soon…” she tries, hoping that Adora will catch on, but as Catra has recently come to realize, that dreamy look in her eyes means that Adora will wait forever to give Catra the space to be heard. Also that she’s a little oblivious. “I’ve been thinking about you. All the time.”

If that’s all it takes to make Adora smile like she does, Catra’s just hit the jackpot. “Glad to know it’s not just me. I mean, you saw me trip over nothing the other day.”

“Oh, you’re blaming your poor coordination on me?”

“You’re too pretty for your own good. Could get a girl really hurt.”

She’s blushing. _The nerve._ “You’re such a _shit._ ”

Adora grins. “It’s just the truth. One minute I’m minding my own business and the next I’m thinking about your—“ she stops herself, flushing an adorable shade of pink, “—eyes.”

“Oh, no no, try again. Thinking about my _what?_ ”

She gives her a little pout, and if she does _that_ for much longer, Catra’s going to have to strip down right here at the door. Adora looks up at her through her lashes, still blushing, still pouting, and Catra’s face hurts from smiling so hard and then:

“…your butt.”

The noise that rises out of her throat is halfway between a squeal and a shriek. In another life, making _that_ noise in front of _Adora_ would have been cause for an immediate self-burial. Now, she grabs Adora’s face, because: “You’re too _cute_ for your own good.” She presses their lips together and Adora makes the cutest sound she’s ever heard and if this keeps happening, well… she _wants_ it to keep happening. Disgusting.

Giggling like the lovestruck idiot she is, Catra slings her arms over Adora’s shoulders and Adora takes the opportunity to do something she hasn’t done since they were kids. Her hands find Catra’s ears, stroking the fur there like she doesn’t know _exactly_ how much Catra likes it. Things have changed, however, in the decade or so since she’s done this, because instead of the deep relaxation she remembers from their youth, the action robs her of her breath and sets her right back to shivering. She can’t help it, she makes a noise against Adora’s lips that she’s almost _more_ ashamed of than her previous one, but Adora’s reaction is well worth it. She tangles one hand in the short hair at the back of Catra’s neck, a little desperate, and keeps stroking one ear.

“Catra,” she mumbles against her lips, closer to a moan than a question, “what were you saying earlier?”

She’s still a little dazed from Adora’s hands and the tone of her voice, but so far beyond caring about how it’s going to sound, so overwhelmed, that she just asks, with all of the subtext and implication she can manage in her state, “Take me to bed?”

Catra pulls back, and Adora looks like she’s been poked between the eyes. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish for _just_ long enough for panic to spike at Catra’s temples. The fog in her head clears a little, enough to start to think of ways to backtrack, but Adora finds her voice first.

“Yeah! Yes of course! Absolutely!” She looks around, and the sudden franticness is almost cute enough to not be a little concerning. “Should… I need candles. There’s a—there’s some kind of protocol. Candles. Roses… flowers? Any flowers?” 

She sets to rummaging around the room immediately, doesn’t even give Catra a _second_ to tell her not to. Catra’s just watching as the love of her life pulls a flower out of its vase, knocking water all over herself and not even noticing while she searches every drawer of an eight-foot tall armoire for who-knows-what.

“Just one more second!”

“Adora.”

“I need one other thing!”

“ _Adora._ ”

“I might actually have to ask Glimmer for—“

“ _Adora!_ ”

Adora’s head whips around, startled. She drops the flower. “Huh?”

Catra takes a deep, steadying breath. “I don’t know what you’re looking for, but… I’m sure we don’t need any of that stuff.” And then, to make sure: “I was just asking. You can say no.”

Adora’s eyes widen and she walks the length of the room (it’s _huge_ , like everything in Bright Moon) in three long strides. She takes Catra’s hands gently. Her palms are sweaty, Catra notices. Something that she remembers from their childhood. It’s endearing, which settles her, for the moment.

“Catra,” she says, squeezing her hands. She looks unsure, and that drives ice into the pit of Catra’s stomach. But she has something else to say. She continues, “I want you.”

Just like that, the ice is replaced with a million butterflies. Catra takes a sharp breath.

“I thought we’d gotten that far,” Adora says with a smile. “It’s just… they don’t teach you about this in cadet training, you know?”

Catra scoffs. “What, _Basic Mammalian Intercourse and Its Innumerable Dangers_ wasn’t enough for you?”

“I mean, we convinced Kyle that he was pregnant, so I guess it wasn’t _all_ bad.”

The memory is, along with a handful of others, a good one. Catra runs her hands up Adora’s arms, enjoying the way she shivers in response. “You wouldn’t let me sleep in your bunk after.”

Adora flushes. “I remember.”

“You never did tell me why.”

“Well, I’d been having all these feelings about you. It’d been a year or two at this point, that I’d been having them. You know, at thirteen you don’t know which way is up, and… I don’t know, I thought that if I kept having them around you, I’d hurt you somehow. I hadn’t thought about it that way before we watched that stupid video.” She shakes her head at herself, smirking. “Couldn’t keep it up for long, though.”

Catra laughs. “Lasted about a night, if memory serves.”

“I wanted to cuddle!”

“You _just_ wanted to cuddle?”

Adora purses her lips, but her eyes are sparkling. “ _Jerk._ ”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m currently available to fulfill all of your teenage fantasies.”

It’s a half-joke, but Adora’s eyes darken all the same, and she goes red down to her neck, which is just as cute as it is hot, Catra comes to realize. Her hands find their way up to Adora’s chest, and she can feel her heart thumping under her palm. It reminds her that she’s not the only one who wants this. Who's _been_ wanting this.

* * *

Adora is terrified.

She’s used to barging into things head-on, just letting luck or chance or She-Ra lead her on. This is different. She _can’t_ just forge ahead—it’s too special. _Catra_ is too special.

Catra seems to pick up on this, and gently presses her back towards the bed. It’s not insistent, not at all like what Adora’s used to. She gives her the time to stop, to say no, and it’s the option to do so that makes Adora realize exactly how much she wants this.

She feels the backs of her knees hit the bed, and plops down. Catra’s looking down at her like she’s the most precious thing in the universe, and it makes her heart swell and her whole body warm and fuzzy. She cards a hand through Adora’s hair, pulling it free.

“I always liked your hair down,” Catra says, playing with it, “it’s really nice.”

Adora’s brain isn’t working again. She doesn’t mind, this time. She pulls Catra down on the bed with her so they’re lying side-by-side, and gets back to stroking the ear that’s not pressed into the bed. Catra looks like she’s either about to fall asleep or jump her, but does neither, just letting her eyes droop as she purrs quietly. Her purrs have always relaxed Adora, but this time, her heart is still going a mile a minute. She wants to lose herself in this, but there are so many things that could go wrong. So many things _she_ could do wrong. The idea of messing this up makes her want to crawl out of her skin.

“Is it bad that I’m nervous?” She asks, and really she hadn’t meant to. She doesn’t want Catra to mistake nerves for reluctance. Maybe she should elaborate—

“I don’t think so,” she says, and then, almost a whisper, “I am too.”

Because Adora’s first reaction is always _go_ , she doesn’t have time to overthink the following kiss, or the fact that Catra’s on top of her in a matter of seconds. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s not alone in feeling nervous—something she’s always been able to handle to varying degrees of success—or maybe it’s the fact that kissing Catra again reminds her of just how worked up she is, and just how many possibilities lay out in front of them. Catra had mentioned those “teenage fantasies” as a joke, but they were very real at the time. Now, they race back into Adora’s mind faster than she can process them.

She remembers countless moments where she’d wanted to kiss Catra, but hadn’t quite had the bandwidth to understand what that meant, or even how a kiss worked. Lonnie had actually been the one to explain a kiss to her, more like a battle plan than an explanation.

_“You grab your opponent’s face, and smash your mouth on their mouth!”_

Adora knows the truth _now_ , but from that day on, her younger self had wondered what it would feel like. After that, their horrible introduction to sex ed had left her mortified and confused, but to the Horde’s credit, the video had given Adora a pretty vivid idea of what it entailed. She figured the detail had been a scare tactic, as was everything else in the Horde. The issue was, that idea in the mind of a thirteen-year-old girl in love with her best friend, had lead to plenty of sleepless nights.

Now, here she is. Not training, not at war, not fighting for her life. It’s _Catra_ above her, kissing her, _loving_ her _._ Her mind swims with pleasure, and an emotion she recognizes as it floats out of the periphery of her mind.

It's relief. Just as Horde Prime's defeat had relived her beyond measure, the war over and the planet saved, Catra had relieved her, too. The war had been such an obvious, tangible conflict. It had been a fear shared by every single being on Etheria, and so many planets and ages beyond that. She could quantify that fear, she could talk to Bow or Glimmer or any of the other princesses about it. They could relate to impending doom. They could sympathize with loss and grief and the long arm of the Horde, looming over every kingdom.

What they _couldn't_ relate to was the exact shape of the hole in Adora's heart. They couldn't tell her that they understood what it meant to grow up, oblivious and steeped in evil. They didn't get what it was like to lose a love to _herself_ , rather than at the hands of the Horde. They didn't know the kind of loss Adora had felt, and while never discounting their own losses, their own struggles, Adora had known hers was different.

How can you talk to someone about being in love with the common enemy?

Her mind settles back to the present, to that relief. She'd always known Catra had good in her, was _inherently_ good. But to hope and hope and hope and _get_ is relieving beyond measure. To love and ache and hurt and pray and win, in the end. 

She grabs at Catra's shoulders, feels her real and close and soft. This is relief.

Catra pulls back a fraction of an inch. “You’re wet,” she says.

_Oh._

“You can tell—?“ She looks down at herself. Catra’s hands are on her jacket, still a little damp from her mishap with the flower vase. “—oh.”

She can almost _feel_ Catra’s smirk, they’re so close. “What did you think I meant?”

She wants to roll her eyes, but the observation had been right on more than one count. So, unable to commit to a proper response, she pulls Catra back in instead.

It’s wonderful in every way it can be. Adora feels alive in a way she never has before. There’s nothing else that compares to this closeness. Her arms wrap around Catra’s shoulders, fingertips find the bare skin there between her shoulder blades, and a purr rises in Catra’s throat. Against her mouth, the vibrations tingle. It’s a wonder they get to do this, after everything. It’s a miracle they’ve found the time alone. No meetings, no lunches, no interruptions—

And then, a thought, unbidden and sharp rams its way through her lust-addled brain. “ _The door!_ ”

She rolls out from under Catra, leaps out of bed, almost tripping herself in the process, and locks the door. The sudden panic ebbs away. No chance of interruption, now—

“Wouldn’t want Sparkles or Arrow Boy walking in now, would we?”

Catra has… wow, she’s fast. Her top’s gone. Adora’s seen her like this, but not like _this._ Head propped up on one hand, completely topless, smirking like she’s won something. Really, _Adora_ feels like she’s won the lottery.

If Catra’s half naked, then she should be too. It’s only fair. So she starts shucking clothes like they’re on fire. No need for shoes, her jacket, compression shirt—she can’t get them off _fast_ enough. She hops around on one leg, trying to yank her left pant leg off, but she’s a little sweaty and it’s not easy and she can hear Catra snickering at her, but they need to be on even ground. Again, fairness first.

Finally, the pant leg comes off, but the motion lands her flat on her ass, and if she hadn’t been making a fool of herself for the past couple of minutes, now’s the time.

When she clambers back up, she’s about ten feet away from the bed, and Catra’s staring at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's gonna be 3 chapters... sorry. I have to write more.
> 
> But thank you all so much for the feedback and the kudos and everything!! It really means the world to me, and I hope if you're reading this, you enjoyed this chapter, and will come back for the last one!
> 
> Also! Feel free to check me out on tumblr [here](https://bazaarwords.tumblr.com/).


	3. Chapter 3

After she’s stripped down in the most endearingly bizarre game of single-player tug-of-war, Adora’s just standing there in her gray standard-issue (still?) underwear and—

“Socks?”

“Well what if my feet get cold?”

Catra wants to laugh, but this is a delicate situation. “Adora, if you manage to notice your feet getting cold, then I’m doing something _very_ wrong.”

Adora thinks about it for a moment. She takes her socks off. She walks towards the bed.

It’s not quite the scene she’d envisioned during her meditation, but it’s better. It’s real, which is something Catra cannot yet manage to wrap her head around. Every awkward blush, every stray elbow, every accidental bite—a little harder than is pleasant—it’s all _happening_. Years of waiting and wanting and agonizing, and she’s here—at the conclusion she’d always dreamed of.

So when they finally wrestle out of the remainder of their clothes, fumble into a position where Adora’s on top of her and things are _really good_ , Catra is almost beside herself with joy. Adora’s hands are restless, she can’t settle on just one area, so Catra takes them, sets one on her chest and the other decidedly lower, and Adora gets the picture. She _really_ gets it.

“You’re gorgeous,” she says against Catra’s ear, filling her head with praise and adoration and _love_.

She feels so taken care of, so safe, like she’s never been in her life, and when she opens her eyes, it’s Adora above her. She’s watching, listening, paying attention to everything. Catra can tell from the way she moves, what she says, how she makes her feel. Adora looks so beautiful like this. She looks beautiful all the time, and the knowledge is something Catra’s only recently been able to admit to herself. A lot of these feelings are simultaneously years old and brand new. She’s never _allowed_ herself to feel like this.

It’s a lot of brainpower to do so, but she manages to retract her claws so she can dig her fingers into Adora’s well-muscled back. She just wants closer, wants Adora to whisper more sweet nothings, but it’s all she can do to keep breathing, let alone ask for more. They have time, though. They have all the time in the world.

She sighs Adora’s name into the crook of her neck, blissfully unaware of anything that isn’t the woman above her _._ There’s a moment of tightly wound tension, another of weightlessness, and then she’s floating back down, unable to stop the purr that wells up in her throat.

“I love you, Adora,” she hums, because it’s the only thing filling up her head, and because she needs Adora to hear it again.

Adora kisses her in response, deep and loving and all but overwhelming. When she parts, she doesn’t go far. “I love you too,” she murmurs against her lips.

They lay there for a while, bodies pressed together. Catra needs to catch her breath, but she also needs to stay wrapped around Adora for the foreseeable future. Maybe they _can_ stay like this forever. She’s been known to be pretty convincing.

“You know,” Adora starts, and her breath fans against Catra’s shoulder. It tingles, she shivers. “I think _Basic Mammalian Intercourse and Its Innumerable Dangers_ was wrong.”

Catra can’t help it, she snorts into Adora’s neck. “What could possibly make you say that?”

“It never mentioned this feeling good.”

Now, she has to laugh. “The Horde? Lying to us? Are you brain damaged? They would _never._ ”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but hear me out,” Adora continues, lifting her head up to meet Catra’s eyes. Her voice is strained with bottled-up laughter and her face is a little pink. “I think they— _pfft_ —I think they wanted to scare us.”

She doesn’t have a snarky response. She’s too blissed-out, too comfortable, she just starts cracking up. She’s not sure if it’s Adora’s terrible not-jokes, the post-coital daze, or Adora, red in the face as she struggles to hold her own laughter in.

“W-what, Catra? What are you— _hmmf_ —laughing about?”

She’s wheezing now, crying, and she swats at Adora’s back to try to get her to stop, but then Adora breaks and starts laughing too, and her own hysterics get worse. Six months prior, if someone had told her that she would be naked and crying laughing under Adora, equally naked and in a similar state, she probably would have knocked their teeth out.

Why had she been nervous about this again?

The reason wriggles its way through her jumbled thought processes. It had been so easy to fall back into their old routines in the heat of battle, to say and do things when their lives were on the line. Since the war, Catra’s thinking a lot more about the future. About her future, with Adora. She’s been careening down a rocky slope to evil for so long, it’s hard to imagine that she can just continue to do things right. That she’s allowed to be happy now, and that she can make Adora happy too.

Apparently, she gets lost in these thoughts because Adora is hovering above her, concerned when she snaps out of them.

“You okay?”

Catra blinks. She wants to dismiss the worry, wants to roll over and not talk about it. The little voice in the back of her head is yelling at her to clamp down, to stay silent.

It takes more effort than she can say, but she doesn’t listen to it.

“I’m… I’m _so_ good, and also… kind of bad?” Adora is frowning, and she does _not_ want that. She raises her hands to Adora’s face, and tries to smooth out the wrinkle of her brows. It doesn’t quite work, but Adora relaxes a little. “It’s um… it’s like—I’m so happy, and my brain keeps trying to tell me that I’m—that I don’t…” She takes a shaky breath. “That I don’t deserve it.”

It sucks to see, especially after what they've just done, but Adora looks _wrecked_. She comes down on Catra, wriggling her arms behind her back and burying her face in her neck so she can squeeze the life out of her. Catra doesn’t mind.

“Catra…” she says, and it’s muffled, but Catra can still hear the hurt. She doesn’t want Adora to hurt, ever again. She squeezes back with everything she has. “You deserve love.”

“So do you, Adora.”

Adora is silent for a long moment, and Catra tries to push her away so she can see her face. This, she can handle right now. She can tell Adora that she loves her, and that _she_ deserves that love. Her own road… they _will_ talk about it. Later. They have time.

When Adora props herself up again, there are tears in her eyes. Catra takes her face. “Did you hear me?”

She nods, slowly, and it breaks Catra’s heart.

Like a bolt of lightning, the need to make Adora _know_ that she’s loved is singular and all-consuming. She flips them around so she can kiss the tears off Adora’s cheeks, so she can kiss her with everything she has, so she can kiss her _everywhere._ She’s not good with her words right now, but she can channel the love she feels through action.

It doesn’t take much to pull Adora back from the place her head had been in. She’s writhing and gasping and begging and as much as Catra would rather spend the rest of her life worshipping Adora’s body, she also won’t make her wait much longer.

She slides down, watches Adora watch her, blue eyes desperate and wild. Then, as she’s getting her hair all but ripped out of her head, she decides that she’d rather be between Adora’s legs than do pretty much anything else. It’s a wonderful discovery. She's very thankful she hasn't ruined the mood.

Adora cries out. It takes far less time than Catra had imagined it would, and Adora’s gone, one hand pressed against the back of Catra’s head, the other covering her mouth. While she imagines that she’d prefer to spend several more hours in this position, watching Adora like this is also a welcome reward.

It takes her less than a second afterwards, but when she uncovers her mouth, she looks down at Catra, “I’m sorry, it—I usually take longer… um, on my own. I thought—“

Catra’s brain manages to string together a sentence before turning fully and immediately to the idea of _Adora_ on her _own. “_ You don’t have to apologize.”

It takes a moment, but after the reassurance, Adora’s eyes droop, and she flops back on the bed. The worry is endearing, like everything Adora does. She can’t even let herself relax like this. Catra smiles to herself, kisses Adora’s thigh before climbing back up her body.

“Doofus.”

Adora grins, but her eyes are still closed. “ _Wha-at?_ What’d I do?” She’s a little loopy. Catra’s proud of herself.

“You’re allowed to feel good for five seconds, you know.”

She hums. “Only five seconds.”

Adora can’t see, but Catra rolls her eyes. She presses her cheek to Adora’s chest and listens to the slowing thump of her heart.

* * *

When Adora wakes up, she’s ecstatic.

She’s naked, Catra’s naked, they’re in bed together, and she smiles to herself for so long her cheeks start to hurt.

She can tell when Catra begins to wake up, because she starts to feel the purr rumble against her chest before she hears it. She remembers this sleepy Catra. The one that would wrap her tail around Adora’s ankle as she’d try to get up and tell her that waking up three hours before muster was a bad idea. The one that, forgoing any and all decorum, would fall asleep directly on top of her after their brutal twelve to sixteen hour training days. The one whose face she’d stare at in the dark, trying to get her eyes to adjust so she could learn every contour.

It’s several minutes of enjoying their position before Catra stretches, catlike, obviously, against Adora’s body. Then she just snuggles back into her chest, still purring happily.

“Good morning,” Adora says, unable to keep the smile off her face.

She can feel Catra’s mouth pull into a smile against her skin. “Yeah it is.”

 _Can you break your face from smiling too hard?_ She wonders. Has she ever been this warm and content in her life? She can’t remember a time that compares. She doesn’t get to enjoy it for _nearly_ long enough, however, because there’s a sharp knock at the door. Catra groans.

“Adora?” It’s Bow. The knob jostles as he tries to open it. Thank goodness for foresight. “Adora, are you awake?”

“Don’t answer,” Catra grumbles into her chest.

She can’t ignore him. “I am now!”

“Do you know where Catra is? I think she stole my tracker pad!”

Catra sits bolt upright, indignant. In that split second, Adora doesn’t have the presence of mind to shut her up. “Why the hell would I steal your stupid tracker pad?”

Bow is silent on the other side of the door.

Adora wants to bury her face in the bed. Catra looks down at her, throws her hands out to the sides. “What?” she hisses, “What use would I have with that thing?”

“Uh, well when you guys are… um… dressed maybe? Could you help me look for it?”

Again, she misses the opportunity to clamp her hand around Catra’s mouth. “We’ll be down in an hour!”

It’s quite possible Bow has vaporized outside the door. She hears his footsteps, though, so maybe it’s just his brain that’s been fried.

She smacks Catra’s chest. “Why’d you do that?”

“ _What?_ ” she whines, grinning like the little shit she is. “We’ll _go_ down after I’ve _gone_ down.” Adora’s body betrays her and she hates herself for it. Catra can tell. She smirks. “On you, I mean—“

“ _I know what you mean._ ”

It’d be more sensible to pitch a fit, but really, how can she say no?

She doesn’t, and an hour later, they’re down in the kitchens looking for Bow’s tracker pad.

“I can’t believe this!” Bow shouts, popping up from under a counter. “I was using it yesterday!”

Catra sighs, loud and long-suffering. “Have you asked Entrapta?”

Slowly, Bow sets down the kitchen appliance he’d been checking under. Adora sees first confusion, followed by realization, followed by shame in rapid succession. She’s not sure why _she_ didn’t think of that, either. Leave it to Catra to be the voice of reason, again.

Bow purses his lips. He looks between the two of them by turning his whole body. Theatrics. Adora loves him for it.

“I am going to go find Entrapta.”

He exits the room. Catra turns to her, one eyebrow arched.

“You realize we gave up an entire morning of laying in bed for nothing?” She deadpans. “What did he even _need_ it for anyway? What could have possibly been _so_ urgent that I had to forgo laying in bed naked with my girlfriend?”

Both the memory and the title give Adora a pleasant buzz in her chest. “We’ll have plenty more mornings to lay around.” She gives Catra a quick peck, and upon drawing back, wishes it had been longer. “Besides, we did get a _little_ time to ourselves.”

“Not enough, if you ask me,” she grumbles, but her expression betrays her. It’s gentle and warm in the same way she’d looked at Adora the night before. It derails Adora’s train of thought for a long moment.

While she wholeheartedly agrees with Catra’s sentiment, she also has to give Bow the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes he doesn’t think things through. She can relate.

“Come on,” she says, taking Catra’s hand, “might as well do something useful since we’re out of bed.”

* * *

Adora’s idea of “something useful” is going for a long run.

Catra, who would rather have Frosta deck her again than exercise for exercise’s sake, goes along. It’s getting easier to admit to herself that she’d do anything to be near Adora. Besides, Adora gives her a pleading look when she asks, and even if she’d tried to fight it, she’s weak for those baby blues. Adora _knows_ this, and enjoys exploiting Catra’s _real_ weakness. Surprise: it’s not a spray bottle.

After the exercise (which hadn’t been bad, but Catra will never admit to it, not even on her dying breath) they have lunch with Bow and Glimmer again. Glimmer makes fun of the way Catra’s hair is growing out over her ears, and _yes,_ it looks kind of stupid, but she’s not going to let Sparkles get away with slander. They pelt each other with grapes for the rest of lunch, much to Bow and Adora’s chagrin. In the end, there are grapes everywhere and Bow and Adora have moved several feet away to eat their food in peace.

When they part ways after lunch, Adora suggests they go back to her room. It’s more suggestive than Adora’s ever been in her life, and the response to that is a choked, “shokay.” Which, she’d wanted to say “ _sure”_ and also “ _okay_ ,” but both had happened and it made Adora giggle before Catra had the time to react, so her embarrassment gets to take a backseat. They’ve got the rest of the day free, and Catra’s more than content to be spending some more alone time with the girl that has a very nice choke-hold on her every thought.

In Adora’s room, they don’t immediately get back to making out. It’s not—much to Catra’s surprise—a terrible thing.

They climb into bed and Adora sets her head on Catra’s lap the way she used to when they were younger. Catra can’t help but fall back into the old pattern. After many long days, she can remember petting Adora like this, when no one was looking. More often than not, Adora would work herself into a tizzy after training—going over battle plans and new scenarios and the next days’ work. When it got late enough, she’d pat her lap and let Adora doze off as she traced her face. It was one of the only things that could relax her. It seems things aren’t so different. The difference is, they can do this for pleasure now, and Catra can lean down and let her lips join her hands like she’d always dreamed. And she _had_ dreamed about it.

She smooths out the soft baby hairs at Adora’s temples, and lets her fingers wander. This is a face she knows like the back of her hand. There’s a scar along her right eyebrow from when they were twelve or thirteen. Adora had been hiding in Kyle’s locker, ready to scare him. Instead of Kyle, it’d been Rogelio, and he’d clawed her in the face first and asked questions after. It would have been funny... if it'd been a more superficial cut. She’d acted tough getting stitches, but later complained to Catra for what felt like hours. She’d acted aloof, but really, Catra was happy to listen.

“What are you thinking about?” Adora asks, her eyes closed as Catra runs a finger down the length of her nose.

“Hmm,” she begins, tracing her cheekbones, “all the little scars you have.”

Adora gives her a small smile. “You remember how I got that one?”

Her fingers have found one near her left ear. It’s more of a bump than a scar. Of course she remembers.

“High-speed rock fight,” she laughs, “what an idiot.”

“It was your idea. Who’s the idiot?”

“I wasn’t the one that got in the way of a rock.”

Adora opens her eyes to give her a look. “Was that or was that not the point of the game?”

“ _Getting hit_ was not the object of the game, no.”

Adora rolls her eyes, which is cute enough to earn her a kiss. Catra feels her smile against her lips. “Mm, what was that for?”

“What, I can’t kiss you?”

“I abso _lutely_ did not say that.” She smirks. “Do it again.”

Really, who is Catra to argue?

* * *

It’s the beginning of thousands of days, of hours, of minutes together. When they envision the rest of their lives, it’s not a question of quantity. They lift each other up, they stand side-by-side, they fight as one, they learn and they grow and they love, together.

It’s hard work, but when they promise to stay—’till death do they part—they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I have a couple more ideas in me, and I hope to write them soon.
> 
> Stay safe out there! :))

**Author's Note:**

> This show has meant so much to me, and I'm sure the same goes for many of you. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! There should be one more chapter (with a rating change lmao) and it (I pray) won't be long until that's posted too.
> 
> Much love, stay safe!


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